


The Savior

by reserve



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Emperor Hux, Enforcer Kylo Ren, Kylo Ren Doesn't Kill Kids, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 08:02:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5997975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reserve/pseuds/reserve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo Ren is sent to kill the Emperor's betrothed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Savior

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vintage_lover_who](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vintage_lover_who/gifts).



> I'm very happy I got to pinch hit for this! I hope you enjoy - I'm sorry it's not the long, toothsome story it could have been. But there may be more in this 'verse for me for sure. 
> 
> Many, many thanks to[ chickadddddd](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Chickadddddd) who was immeasurably helpful with brainstorming for this, and with a quick beta! You're the best, bae. And to [electrumqueen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/electrumqueen) who took a gander at it for me and provided lovely convo while I wrote. Sorry to all for posting to ao3 twice in one day /:

“Is it done?” Hux whispers sleepily, turning towards Ren in the dark. The sheets rustle.

Ren drops to his knees at the side of the broad bed. Moonlight through the window falls across brocade and silk. Hux looks pale and drawn in the dusk, his bare, lightly freckled skin disappearing against so much white fabric. His bedding is sumptuous; a comforter so heavy with down that Ren cannot see the shape of the limbs beneath it. Hux reaches for him, and his cold hand caresses Ren’s cheek. Even with so much care taken to keep him warm, Hux’s skin always carries a chill. Ren imagines his small feet must be freezing. They so often find their way between his calves when they share a bed. He knows he gives off heat like a desert sun; he is always sweating through tunics, his hair is always damp at the back of his neck.

“It is done, my lord,” Ren says. His throat is dry.

He takes Hux’s hand between his two and brings it to his mouth; he kisses the ring. Hux’s fingers play across his lips. His hand curls into a fist and the space between his two knuckles pulls Ren's lips apart, flat bone rubbing against Ren's gums, his teeth.

“Very good,” Hux says. Two of his fingers unfold into Ren’s mouth. They stroke over his tongue. Kylo Ren keeps still, he is accustomed to this now. “Take off your clothes and come to bed, my vicious thing.”

Ren does.

_One day prior…_

Artori is a plush city. It reminds Ren of the worlds he traveled to with his mother before he fell. He remembers sitting at her side during diplomatic missions. He remembers wishing he could hide behind her skirts when she chose to play the princess for a function that required formal dress. He has not seen his mother in a very long time; he does not think he will again.

Ren moves under the cover of darkness, over stone balconies and tiled rooftops. He is fleet-footed. He has learned how to be quiet; he has learned how to fade into the dark, to use it. His lightsaber hangs at his side, in his boot he carries a small blaster. One of his gauntlets conceals a dagger. He stops for a moment on a high parapet and takes in the city from this vantage point. He is nothing but a shadow against a backdrop of glittering lights, of regal golden domes, and green ivy. The girl should be close.

When he reaches out with the Force he does not know what to search for. He does not know her mind enough to mark it. He has an address, a name burned into his retina. When he leaves here she will be dead.

A flock of birds pass by overhead, and Ren uses the moment they cover the moon to jump down two stories to another palazzo balcony.

The night is warm, and this is a safe place, a trusting place. No one in this coddled, rich city expects him, and sets of doors are open to the dark at nearly every home, gauzy curtains billowing in the sea salt air. Her home will be one of these: overlooking the water, a tiny palace for a young queen. The guards will have grown fat and complacent in recent years, the alarms will not sound. When he pictures his grandmother among her handmaidens, he imagines a world like this.

The smell of freesia brings him to a halt. He was briefed to expect this scent; told that it would be the mark of her home. Like the others before it, the doors are thrown open.

 _These fools_ , Ren thinks sadly. He has only come for her; they are lucky he has not been sent to kill them all. They are lucky he has been sent alone. He feels a lurking melancholy, has felt it since he was given this mission. He serves at the pleasure of the Emperor. He kissed the ring, he swore an oath. He has no regrets, and although he does not wish to lose his place as Hux’s prized bedwarmer, he is not certain that killing his intended bride is the wisest route. But who is he to question? He is but a knight, an asset to his lord. The Emperor’s hand.

In this life, he is a dagger. And with Snoke dead, he is freer than he’s ever been.

Ren lifts up his hood and hides his face in shadow. He wears black only, and not the Emperor’s colors as he normally would. When he enters her bedroom through the window, he is brought up short. She is awake.

He raises one hand in a fist, and does not let her scream. Her bower is huge. The walls are covered in woven tapestries.

“ _Shhhhh_ ,” he soothes. “Shhhhh.”

She nods at him, and he lets her go, mentally uncovering her mouth.

Ren had not expected a child in bedclothes. Why this match was made is beyond him, but he suspects Hux truly wished to hurt her homeworld, not her. The death of its tiny figurehead would surely bring about great grief, and Hux is cruel. It is one of his best qualities.

“You’re here to kill me,” says the would-be child bride. “You are his hound.”

“I am,” says Ren. He sits on the edge of her bed and touches her mind. She does not fear him. She knows she should.

“I shan’t die,” she says, lifting her chin at him pridefully. She reminds him of Hux.

Ren finds he likes her very much. She can be no more than twelve standard years or else she is not entirely human. Her hair is very long and ringleted, framing her small, round face. He cannot tell the color of her large, oval eyes, but he suspects blue.

“Then we are at an impasse, little one,” says Ren. “Because I have been sent to kill you, and I cannot disobey my master.”

The child swallows. Ren watches her consider her very limited options.

“Perhaps, you could simply take me away,” she says finally.

He had hoped she would. He is no stranger to stowing away children who are meant to be dead. They will tell you he is the Jedi Slayer, and he will let them. But here is one place where he and his grandfather differ. Ren cannot know if it is a failure or a triumph.

“Do you have family elsewhere?” he asks her.

“What has happened to your face?” she responds instead, and stretches out one small, olive skinned hand to touch beneath his hood. He lets her tiny fingers find the scar that breaks his face in two.

“A little girl, like you, gave it to me.”

“I should like to go to her, then,” says the child.

Ren laughs. “You’ll have to trust me then. I have to take this place from you before I can take _you_ from here.”

“I won’t die?”

“Part of you will.”

She stares at him critically. He does not touch her mind.

“Do it,” she says finally. “Take what you must. When we go, bring the things that have been packed for me. The things meant for the wedding.”

“Lay back, child. Close your eyes.”

She does as she is told. Now she finds her fear. She trembles. He touches her face lightly with two hands, pointer fingers at her curl-covered temples. He dips into her mind, and cuts out this life. He leaves the memories that cannot harm her chance at a new one. He gives her a new name. He lets her keep the feel of love. He takes her parents. It is the work of mere minutes to take all that binds her here.

“Open your eyes,” he says. “Your name is Bell Yarrow, and I have come to rescue you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://reserve.tumblr.com). I can't seem to stop writing about these jerks, so.


End file.
